


Everyone Loves a Parade

by occasional_boy_reporter



Category: Tintin - All Media Types
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, POV Alternating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-09 22:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1151717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/occasional_boy_reporter/pseuds/occasional_boy_reporter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While running from mobsters in America, Tintin and Haddock find themselves hiding in a peculiar parade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everyone Loves a Parade

**Author's Note:**

> This is set sometime shortly after 1978/Tintin and the Picaros. Basically, as you read, think Tintin in long pants and hippies in the background.  
> The story alternates perspective for a reason. I hope it doesn't prove distracting.

   This was supposed to have been a vacation. It was typical as far as _Tintin’s_ vacations went.

   “Faster, Captain,” Tintin encouraged as they fled down a cramped alley.

  It wasn’t as if they planned to find adventure in America. Adventure had found them in the form of an unmarked package outside their hotel room door. It had been small, as far as Tintin’s experience with bombs went, though powerful enough.  After all, there was a rather spectacular whole where the bathtub had been.

   The conceirge's testimony had led them to a photography studio, which led to a bakery, which led to a department store. A rather pushy saleslady had tried, unsuccessfully, to get Tintin in a pair of blue jeans. The Captain had thought it hilarious until the saleslady wanted to know his size as well.

   Ten frustrating stops and a single blow to the back of the head later, Tintin and Captain Haddock had finally come face to face with the head of the American-based mafia. The man was some relation of a gangster Tintin put away during his first trip to New York. They say the mob is a family business.

   A quick bit of thinking and a little intervention from Snowy were the only reasons Tintin and Haddock were running for their lives now and not currently bathing in a barrel of acid.

   Now, the alley they were using to escape emptied out onto a sidewalk so crowded that Tintin couldn’t see more than the ten people immediately in front of him. A horrible banging and a curse came from the alley behind Tintin and the Captain. Apparently their pursuers had reached the same precarious pile of discarded bedframes that had nearly tripped up Haddock.

   “They’re catching up, Tintin.”

   “We’ll lose them in the crowd.” Tintin squeezed and darted through the mass of people muttering an occasional apology. Haddock followed with a rougher approach that involved a bit more shoving.

   Tintin’s plan was to make it to the opposite edge of the crowd and, in the process, lose the three gunmen following them. From there, he and the Captain would circle back the way they’d come and hopefully return to the mob’s hiding place to collect some quick evidence.

   The wall of bodies came to an end so abrupt that Tintin actually slipped through the last of the crowd and stumbled into the street. He landed roughly against a man with floppy hair and sunglasses. The impact caused the man to drop the homemade sign he was holding.

   ‘Hi Mom Guess What!’

   Tintin frowned at the bold printing. ‘What’ indeed? The floppy-haired man retrieved his sign, shot Tintin a brilliant smile, and continued to walk.

  There were more signs and even more people marching in the street. Packed onto opposite sidewalks, stood a collection of onlookers who smiled or scowled to varying degrees.

   “It’s a parade,” Tintin muttered to himself. An elderly man on the sidewalk made eye contact and shook his fist angrily. “Or maybe it’s a protest.”

   The reporter craned his neck to check on his pursuers.

  “Blistering- !”

   The Captain faltered as he broke through the crowd and missed the same drop from sidewalk to street that Tintin had. Tintin managed to catch the older man and saved them both from a tumble in the street.

   “Where in blue blazes are we?” Haddock wondered aloud as people marched steadily onward.

   “I’m not sure. Let’s keep walking for a while and then just cross the street. There’s no way they can follow us through this crowd.”

   Before the Captain could agree, a low hanging banner knocked the cap clean off his head. By the time Tintin thought to look, it was too late to read it. The banner’s back was an unhelpful, blank expanse. Tintin did notice the two men carrying the banner were shirtless. Their jeans were cut off into shorts even shorter and tighter than the basketball shorts that scandalized the Captain the first time they watched a game on television.

   What sort of event was this?

   Tintin was so distracted by the question that he didn’t watch where he was going. The young redhead turned and smacked his face directly into a pole.

   “Ow!” Tintin stumbled back cupping the lower half of his face. He glared at the pole and realized it held a rainbow-striped flag.

   The flag bearer was a burly man with a white mustache and bald head. The mustache twitched above the man’s broad smile as he spoke. “Hurt anything?”

   “Only my pride,” Tintin managed through his fingers.

   Calloused fingers gently pried Tintin’s hand from his face. Tintin blinked. The man’s smile was very wide and very close.

*****

   Haddock had just scooped his hat off the ground when the frilly hem of a dress ruffled his hair. “Oh, excuse me, ma’am! I….”

   The woman had a very strong chin, and a rather deep giggle.

     Haddock excused himself hastily but a niggling suspicion sent him back for a second look. The woman had a rather sturdy build which was only made more obvious by her flimsy, rainbow-colored dress. Only then did Haddock notice them everywhere. There were rainbows on signs, shirts, bandanas, flags galore. Haddock had just read an article about an artist in San Francisco and rainbow flags. The Captain looked back to the masculine woman who blew him an exaggerated kiss. In front of Haddock, one young lady kissed another.

   The realization hit Haddock like a tidal wave.

   “Uh…Tintin?” He might have shouted it if his mouth hadn’t been so dry. The Captain turned just in time to see Tintin take a startled step away from a hulking man holding a rainbow flag. Flag guy reached out again trying to touch Tintin’s face and Haddock’s beard bristled. “Get off the boy!”

   Captain Haddock, his hat crushed in his fist, wedged himself between a very startled Tintin and the mustached man.

   The flag bearer squared his shoulders and stood to his full height, which was a generous foot taller than the Captain. Haddock puffed out his own chest and rolled up his sleeves. He didn’t care that the arms poking out of the other man’s leather vest were thick as an average man’s thighs; no burly, old-timer was going to get away with giving Tintin _that_ look.

   “Captain, there!”

   Haddock was torn from his staring contest to follow the line of Tintin’s outstretched finger. A few blocks behind them, the mafia’s gunmen had made it to the front of the spectators. Two crashed through the parade and began shoving past the crowd on the opposite side of the street. The third gunman joined the parade, running along the fringe of walkers.

   “Thundering typhoons," Haddock whispered urgently. "He’ll be here any minute. What do you want to do, Tintin?”

   “I think…Captain...” Tintin trailed off and nodded over Haddock’s shoulder. Haddock turned and glared back up into the rough flag bearer’s face. This guy couldn’t take a hint!

   “What’s the deal?” the man asked in the deepest voice Haddock had ever heard.

   “Deal?” Haddock scowled and dropped his own pitch just a little. “There is no deal.”

   “Then get lost. I saw the redhead first.”

   “Excuse you,” Tintin piped up, “’the redhead’?”

   “The hell you did!” Haddock spat. He’d known Tintin for what felt like forever!

   Undaunted, the big man crooned in Tintin’s direction. “I could take you to the moon.”

   “WE’VE ALREADY BEEN!!!” Haddock thundered.

   Anger oozed from every pore of Haddock's skin. Haddock had seen it all at sea and was no stranger to these kinds of unwanted advances. Homosexuality wasn't exactly a new concept to the Captain either. But Tintin was a good kid; he was not some kind of loose deviant who could be picked up off the streets. And he certainly didn’t swing _that_ way! To be honest, the Captain wasn’t rightly sure that Tintin swung in any direction. But Haddock wasn’t about to explain all that to some leather-clad lug. Haddock felt a little strange knowing what he had to say. He filled his chest with air and bravado before letting it loose with his most menacing grumble.

   “Move along, you! Tintin’s with me. Got it?”

   The muscled man seemed doubtful and casually rolled a single shoulder. “Prove it.”

   “Prove it?” Haddock repeated in disbelief.

   “Kiss him.”

   Haddock sputtered.

*****

   “I think…“ Tintin had a plan of escape already outlined in his head but was promptly sidetracked by a closer and stranger threat. The flag-carrying man loomed over Haddock’s back. The reporter had faced down many men in his lifetime but never faced one giving him such a look of…well, Tintin might have seen that look on a cannibal once. Not in the mood to be devoured, Tintin decided it best to let the big gun handle this one. He nodded over Haddock’s shoulder. “Captain…”

  The confrontation with the strange and mustached brute was unsettling in its nature. Not that Tintin was naïve when it came to human sexuality. You didn’t poke your nose in people’s business all around the world without finding some interesting things you weren’t expressly looking for. Tintin had just never thought such a desire might be directed toward him. And though Tintin and the Captain had never discussed…same sex attraction…it might one day make an interesting fireside conversation. But, more to the immediate point, the argument had brought them all to a standstill. The Mafioso was catching up quickly.

   “Crumbs!” Tintin muttered to himself.

   “I saw the redhead first.”

   “Excuse you,” Tintin found himself saying. “’the redhead’?”

   Who did this man think he was? Certainly not the world-famous, intrepid journalist he, in fact, was.

   “I could take you to the moon,” the man offered.

   Tintin’s rolled his eyes and left the retort to the Captain. Another glance proved the gunman was still advancing, he shoved aside a large woman wearing a rainbow dress. Tintin wasn’t sure whether or not the man would shoot in a crowd, but his villains were historically merciless and stupid. Tintin couldn’t risk it.

   “Prove it?” the Captain squawked.

   “Kiss him.”

   Tintin flinched. Were they still talking about him?

   Nearby, somebody shouted. “Kiss him!”

   A couple of spectators took up the call. “Kiss him! Kiss him!”

   The chant caught on quickly and, two rousing choruses in, Tintin had no doubt he was involved. Kiss who? Surely not his muscle-bound, mustached suitor? A glance at the Captain’s face proved it wasn’t so. He would have been visibly outraged. But then…oh.  The Captain? Double crumbs!

   By this point, the gunman was almost close enough to spit on.  “Captain!”

   Haddock apparently mistook the warning as something else and gripped Tintin’s biceps tightly. Tintin blinked at their extreme proximity.

   “I tried to…he thinks we’re…barnacles! Tintin, we’re in one of those-”

   There wasn’t time to let Haddock finish his awkward explanation. Neither was there any time to run. With nothing left to do, Tintin took the crowd’s suggestion and kissed Haddock squarely on the mouth.

*****

   “Kiss him! Kiss him!”  

   “Captain!”

   Haddock turned at the panic in Tintin’s voice. The Captain felt for sure his bravado would have made the flag man back down. But when you were that big, how often did people give you disappointing answers?

   And if Haddock had to kiss Tintin to send the man away…Well, It was an alarming situation for sure! Haddock gripped Tintin’s arms to comfort him. “I tried to…he thinks we’re…barnacles! Tintin, we’re in one of those-”

   The first bit of alarm came when Tintin’s hands fisted into the collar of Haddock’s worn sweater. When Tintin’s lips crashed into his, it was like an air-raid siren went off.

   Haddock choked on his own tongue and tried to pull away, but Tintin’s grip was strong. The younger man tilted his head, sliding his mouth across Haddock’s. The Captain clamped his lips shut and blew a rattled breath out his nose.

 Tintin’s fists abandoned the Captain’s collar and tangled into the dark hair at the back of the retired sailor’s head. Haddock knew the kid completed challenges with gusto, but surely a faked peck on the mouth would have been sufficient to quiet the crowd. Haddock tried to protest, ask Tintin to slow down at least! But Tintin held their heads so tightly together that Haddock couldn’t form words. He only managed to murmur and catch one of the reporter’s lips between his own.

*****

   Haddock’s eyes had slammed shut the moment their lips met but Tintin’s were wide open. The crowd cheered for their kiss and, in a flurry of hand clapping, hat-waving, and fist pumping, the Mafioso slipped from Tintin’s view. Tintin tilted his head to find their enemy’s position. Haddock exhaled roughly tickling Tintin’s upper lip.

   The Captain went completely still.

   Tintin wanted to apologize for the shock but it was the only way to hide them in plain sight. Surely their pursuer would be looking for a couple of runners, not kissers.

   Haddock sudenly tried to extricate himself from their lip lock.

   _Not yet!_

   Tintin gripped the back of Haddock’s head. The Mafioso was right there! The man seemed agitated by the exuberant crowd but he continued to search. If Haddock and Tintin parted now, they’d be caught. The Captain hummed against Tintin’s lips which made them tingle in a way that wasn't unpleasant. Tintin was so shocked by the feeling, he closed his eyes to better experience it.

   Panic hit his gut in a sharp twinge and his eyes jerked open again. For crying out loud, there was a certain danger of being shot! The Mafioso stood on his tiptoes and looked over the crowd. Tintin turned, taking Captain Haddock with him. Surely the back of Haddock’s sweater would be less of a giveaway than Tintin’s bright and distinctive hair. Tintin found his lower lip suddenly bombarded by wet heat as it slipped between the Captain’s lips. His stomach bottomed out and his knees felt unresponsive. It was like getting hit in the back of the head but without the pain. Suddenly, Tintin forgot to watch the gunman.

*****

   They were twisting and tipping, bending Tintin over backwards.  Haddock had no choice but to release Tintin’s arms and slip his hands along the boy’s back to keep them both upright. The line of Tintin’s body pressed against his made Haddock dizzy. They needed to stop. Surely the burly flag bearer would be satisfied with the whole charade. And if it went on any longer, Haddock would never be able to remember it as just an act.

   Tintin’s entire body trembled. Thinking the young man was bent too far to support his own weight, Haddock tightened his grip around the younger man’s back. Tintin jolted in his arms and Haddock’s hand slipped. When it found purchase, Haddock made a horrified discovery.

   _I’m fondling Tintin’s ass_.

   He could almost feel the stitching on Tintin’s back pocket. Haddock tried to swear when Tintin bit his lip but there was still no room for intelligible words. What was the boy biting him for? The Captain wasn’t the one in control here. He scowled as his face heated to dangerous levels.

*****

   The Captain’s arms squeezed Tintin tightly and the reporter forgot where he was. He could feel the Captain’s hard chest pressed against him. Every breath the Captain took expanded his diaphragm and pressed their abdomen’s tightly together. Tintin shuddered as the same breath beat warmly against his slackening lips.

   Haddock’s arms shifted. A broad hand drifted down, catching on Tintin’s back pocket before it jerked to a stop. Tintin's breath stopped with it. That broad palm cupping his backside, pulling him closer to the Captain, undid him.  He nipped at the Captain's lips, not thinking about anything but what it might feel like behind those lips. Tintin tried to speak. His brain was thwarted by the heat in his face and the feeling of the Captain’s solid body pressing against both sides of him. He didn’t even know what he wanted to say, but there was something on the tip of Tintin’s tongue. And he ached so badly to let it out.

   Whatever words Tintin may have managed were ruined by the fact that he and Haddock were still too close for proper speech. Regardless, Tintin moaned some terribly needy noises against the Captain’s lips.

 

 

  *****

   Haddock couldn’t take it anymore. That boy, warm and practically vibrating against him, was too much. He’d wanted to kiss Tintin. Just months ago, Tintin seemed to magically appear in that hotel room in San Theodoras to save Bianca and the Thom(p)sons. Haddock had wanted to spin him around and berate him for putting his young life on the line and then kiss him soundly for coming anyway. But it wasn’t the first time he’d wanted to kiss the redhead senseless.

   South America, the Red Sea, Sydney, the God-forsaken moon; it was always the same thing with Tintin. On land, at sea, in the air, in God-forsaken space; as soon as they’d finagled their way out of whatever disaster they walked into, Haddock wondered what it would be like to have lost Tintin. Even in the safety of Marlinspike, it was easy to be tortured by the thought. What if he’d lost that wonderful boy forever and never told Tintin why he'd followed him everywhere?

  And here was the most wonderful, clever, handsome boy melting in his arms! It seemed Tintin _could_ swing one way or the other. And then Tintin moaned. Not in pain. In pleasure.

   This kiss was no simple ploy.

   Haddock prized one of Tintin’s hands from his hair and pulled back just enough to speak.

   “Oh, Lord. You want this?”

*****

   “Yes.” Tintin’s knees went weak. “Since Incas held us prisoner in Peru. Yes!”

*****

   They clashed together and this time it was all mutual. Every move of their lips, every swipe of their tongues, every frantic grip of sweaters and limbs was a shared desire finally come to fruition.

   Why? Why? Why had they never done this before?

   Finally, dizzy from the exhilaration, Tintin unglued himself from the Captain’s lips to stare at the man who’d just helped him discover another world worth of adventure. Haddock brushed strong fingers against Tintin’s flaming cheek.

   “Peru?” The Captain asked with a strained laugh.

   “If I’d been wrong about the date, we’d have died and I’d never get the chance to do this.” Tintin kissed Haddock tenderly.

   The Captain chuckled. “And all those years after Peru?”

   “Working up the courage,”  Tintin admitted.

   “I thought that was your last name.”

   “Very clever, Captain,” Tintin smirked.  “I suppose we…we forgot the mobster!”

   Tintin twisted in the Captain’s arms as he frantically searched the vicinity. To the reporter’s surprise, the gunman was gone. The mustached man with the rainbow flag was gone too.  In fact, most of the parade was gone. Spectators were already packing it up but a few bothered to whistle at Haddock and Tintin for their show.

   Haddock coughed into his fist uncomfortably.

   “Captain, just this once, maybe we should let the police wrap up the investigation." Tintin was very thoughtful as he smoothed his corduroy clad hips. "Maybe book a new hotel room. Someplace quiet?”

   Haddock’s jaw hung. “That…those sound like very good ideas.”

   “Let’s get out of here.”

   “Tintin.”

   “Yes, Captain?”

   “That was a gay pride parade.”

   “Yes, it was.”

   “We were in a gay pride parade, Tintin.”

   “Yes we were, Captain.”


End file.
